These irises were in the gardens around our house when we moved in during the Spring of 2006. At some point, I transplanted them to their current location.
Early on, my wife bent down and smelled one of them. She said they smelled like root beer.
She was right.
Some people call them "flags," which is probably because they are up around Flag Day, a week from tomorrow.
Spring is especially melancholy for me. Flowers. She loved them and the senses they invoked.
I miss her.
All glory to God.